Cracklin' Rosie
by MichelleJoy
Summary: Get on board. We're gonna ride 'til there ain't no more to go.


_Greetings my fellow SOA fans!_

_Before I begin, I must admit I started writing this before I realized that Gemma's mother is called Rose/Rosie. And before I knew Gemma loathed her mother. So, for nothing more than my own sake, we are going to overlook that matter. I would be devastated to rename my character._

_With that said, I will admit to you all that I have given into cliché. You'll understand in due time._

_Thanks for popping in! I sincerely hope you all enjoy…and please feel free to drop any constructive reviews!_

* * *

Climbing out of my '72 Nova I ran my hand over the door, enjoying the silky blue paint beneath my fingertips, before slamming it shut. I let the California sunshine warm up my bare arms and willed myself not to scowl at the thought of being at Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair for the remainder of the afternoon. Not that I dislike my family's business, I just happened to have had some good plans lined up for the day; the click of my red pumps proved that to be true, they were reserved for special occasions.

The low whistle and a slightly suggestive, "_Cracklin' Rosie_," that greeted me as I entered the garage had my mood instantly turned around. This day would most certainly get interesting.

"Afternoon, Tigger," I grinned at one of my father's best friends, my 'proxy' uncle, and Sergeant at Arms for the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, Redwood Original.

"What're you doin' here, kid? You've been braggin' about having today off all week," he scratched his hand through his dark curly mop as he watched me pile my sandy blonde hair into a messy bun.

"Gemma called and said you guys could use an extra set of hands. And you know my mom; couldn't say no," I explained while dropping my over sized purse onto a bench and tugged out my fathers old T-M shirt; _John_ sewn in red on the worn name patch.

Tig had his arms crossed as he chuckled at my statement, an agreement that you never disobey my mother without swift and brutal consequence.

"Sweetheart, I always need an extra set of hands," Tig smirked. I laughed loudly at his innuendo. It was just so _Tig_.

"I thought that's what those two ladies at the warehouse were for?" I deadpanned. "It's too bad what happened to them."

Tig glared down at me with his sharp blue eyes. "How'd you know about them?" he asked.

"I'm not deaf Tig," I nearly snorted. "It's not like the guys haven't talked shit about it."

"You're just so funny aren't you?" he sneered jokingly as he came up and gave my cheek a couple hard pats.

"Hey, Tig, man, you-"

I smiled and shrugged my dad's work shirt on over my black tank top as the Prospect waltzed into the garage, stopping as he noticed me. With a more than obvious look over, Kip –or Half Sack- ran his hand through his hair and smiled almost sheepishly.

"Watch yourself, Sack," Tig pointed a warning finger at the Prospect, earning an eye roll from me.

"Hey, Kip," I smiled before lifting the hood of the VW Golf that was parked behind Tig.

"Hey, Rosalie," he greeted back. "You look nice…"

"Yeah, what're you so dolled up for?" Tig asked while looking down his nose at me. "Or better yet, _who_?"

"I was on my way out when Gemma called me in," I sighed while leaning over the engine and poking around. "I was meeting up with Jared."

"You're still hangin' around that assclown?" Tig asked in annoyance. I looked up from the engine and raised my eyebrows Tig before flickering them to the Prospect who was looking to be busy, but obviously eavesdropping.

"Why don't you back off? I don't know if things will even go anywhere with this guy," I said pointedly to Tig. I was feeling more than frustrated with the judgment and didn't hold back the bite in my voice.

Tig held up his hands in surrender as he chuckled. "A'righ, a'right," he ruffled my hair teasingly. "Just…be careful."

I sighed and smiled lightly at him and nodded. "I'm always careful, Tig," I told him. "I know how to handle myself."

"You'll always be the crazy little kid who used to run around the shop in your fuckin' ballerina skirt askin' me what vaginas were," he smirked.

"And what they were for," I reminded him with a grin.

Half Sack snickered lightly from behind us, causing Tig to turn and scowl. "What're you still doin' here, Prospect?" he snapped. Kip stammered before turned and walking towards the office.

I shook my head and chuckled as I bent back over the engine. Before I could get my wrench anywhere close to it, a loud and deep throat was cleared from behind me. I glanced back and sighed. "Yeah, Clay?" I asked, straightening up to look at the beast of a man that is one half of Teller-Morrow's name sake, First 9, and now President of SAMCRO… and not to mention my step- dad.

"Next time you show up to help out, make sure you dress a bit more appropriately," he sighed, motioning towards my shorts. I smirked and looked down at my California tanned legs, elongated by my red pumps, and bare enough to show the entire memorial tattoo for my father that was inked onto my thigh. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked up at Clay, glad to be given the opportunity for banter.

"Tell Gemma not to call me in the middle of my day off," I told him with a smile. "Then we wouldn't have this problem."

"_We _don't have a problem," Clay pointed between us. "Every time you bend over that hood you're makin' a problem for those shitheads."

I followed the thumb that Clay jerked behind him to see Kip, Juice, and a couple hang-arounds trying to look busy.

I held back my chuckles and rolled my eyes as Clay rubbed his forehead in annoyance. "Go relieve Bobby in the office," he less than ordered before walking away with a sigh.

"Yes, sir," I grumbled to myself as I went to grab my bag from the work bench.

"I heard that," he called; I could hear his smirk as he walked away.

"Heard what?" I grinned. Tig shook his head at me while taking my place at the front of the VW Golf, wrench in hand.

I smiled to him before turning and walking through the garage, towards the office, making sure to pass by the group of onlookers.

"Afternoon, Rosie," Juice greeted with his cheesy grin that always had me smiling back.

"Hey, Juicy," I greeted back, making a last minute decision to detour for a moment. "How's it goin?"

Juice stepped away from the Harley he was working on and smiled widely, looking to appreciative of a distraction. "Good," he nodded. "Didn't expect to see you here today."

"Me either," I smiled.

"You still teachin' dance downt-"

Juice and I both stopped upon hearing a chainsaw from the parking lot and curiously walked out to see what the commotion was about.

"Oh, gross," I muttered when I watch Sack take the power tool to the dead deer stuck through a windshield. I glanced up and laughed at Juice's expression; pure disgust.

"C'mon," I smiled and placed my hand on Juice's forearm, landing on his reaper. "Let's get away before we've gotta help."

Juice chuckled and nudged my side with his elbow. "I think you're supposed to be somewhere," he spoke, nodding towards the office where Bobby was standing in the doorway staring me down with a smirk.

"Goddamnit," I sighed. "I'll talk to you later, Juice."

"See ya, Rosie," he smiled before getting back to work on the bike.

I approached the office and smiled warmly at Bobby Elvis. "Hey Bobby," I spoke while sliding around him and taking a seat behind the computer.

"Rosie," he spoke back, using his fatherly tone.

I spun around in the swivel chair to face him and lifted an eyebrow. "Yes?" I asked.

"Don't play coy with me," he smiled, waving a finger at me. "You've been distracting the boys today; stay in the office."

"Jesus, Bobby, I'm 26 years old; I'm not a teenager," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but Juice might as well be a horny 17 year old," he chuckled.

I left myself laugh before shooing Bobby out. "Go away," I smiled. "Clay probably needs you for club shit."

"Alright, behave darlin'."

"Bye, Bobby," I chuckled before swiveling back around and scowling at our outdated computer monitor. I hate technology, especially this computer, so I spun back around began working on filing and getting rid of the pile of shit stacked across the desk.

* * *

"Teller-Morrow," I greeted as I answered the telephone. "This is Rosalie."

"It's me." I smiled at my mother's forward greeting.

"Hey, Ma," I spoke with a small chuckle.

"How's everything going there? Everyone working hard?"

"Oh, of course," I smiled while pinning the phone between my cheek and shoulder. "Everything is running smoothly, as always."

"I talked to your brother earlier, apparently the junkie whore hasn't been sending him any of the doctor bills," she informed me with a small grit in her voice.

"Jesus," I sighed. "Good thing that baby is a Teller. He can handle his shit."

"Tell me about it," my mom agreed. "You want me to swing by and grab you?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. I swear this fuckin' garage is going to give me hives," I said on a smile.

"Chin up, darlin'," my mom laughed. "I'll be by in a few."

"Bye Mom," I smiled and snapped my cell phone shut.

I quickly sorted the paper piles before quickly crossing the lot to the clubhouse. Upon entering I noticed Bobby lazily strumming his guitar behind the pool table and Juice working away on his laptop.

"So this is what you do while I work my ass off?" I teased as I approached the pool table and set my bag down atop it. I caught Juice's gaze as I shrugged off my T-M shirt and laid it over my belongings, throwing him a wink as I did so.

Bobby grinned from behind his guitar and began to strum a new tune. "_Cracklin' Rosie get on board. We're gunna ride til-"_

"No, no, no," I interrupted loudly as Juice snickered. "Don't even start that shit. I need you back in the office; Gemma's comin' to get me in a few."

"No can do, darlin'," Bobby grinned. "Club shit."

"Then find someone else to do it," I shrugged. "I don't really care."

I glanced back at the door as the Prospect came shuffling through with a hang around, both carrying in a large box. "Half Sack," Bobby smirked over his guitar at the kid. "Piney clogged the toilet again."

"Jesus, that guy shits more than a grizzly bear; it ain't human," he said. I rolled my eyes and held back a smile as the other guys in the room snickered.

"Jax in his room?" I asked the group.

Bobby nodded and I turned to head towards the living area when the hang around asked Kip about his nickname and Sack's hands went straight to his pants.

"Don't you dare!" I pointed to the Prospect. "Wait 'til I leave the room, Jesus."

I'd already seen his nut sack once; the kid would whip it out to show anyone. I quickly rounded the corner to the dorms, getting out of the main room as quickly as possible, and walked to the last room.

I knocked three times and jiggled the handle. "Hey, it's me," I called, knocking again. I heard shuffling and then the locked clicked and my brother stepped out, giving me a smile.

I gave him a matching one and leaned against the opposite wall. "What's up?" he asked while shoving his hands into his pockets. I shrugged in response.

"You going to dinner at Mom's tomorrow? She went to the German," I chuckled.

"Hell yeah," Jax grinned and lent against his door.

"She's on her way to pick me up now. We're going to check up on your crazy ex," I told him with a smirk.

"As if havin' Gemma at the front door isn't enough, now she's gotta see you too," he shook his head. "Tig tells me you're still seein' that shithead?"

I rolled my eyes and nodded. "So?" I asked.

"There's somethin' not right about that guy, Rose," Jax sighed. I opened my mouth to respond when Jax's name was being yelled out by Chibs; I had to smile at the Scottish accent.

"I think you're wanted," I chuckled. He smiled and tossed his arm over my shoulders.

"C'mon," he said and pulled me along with him down the hall.

I parted with my brother as he followed the others to 'church' and exited the club house just as my mother pulled up in her caddy.

She rolled down her window as I approached the car and I could see her eyebrows raised above the rim of her sunglasses. "What?" I asked with a small smirk.

"You look hot," she smirked right back. "Give the boys a show while you worked today?"

I rolled my eyes and climbed into the passenger seat. "Funny," I retorted. "No, you called me in while I was nearly half way to Lodi earlier."

"Going to see that boy?"

"Yeah," I responded. "That boy."

"He's no good for you sweetheart," she sighed and rested her elbow in the open window.

"You haven't even met him yet, Ma."

"Exactly," she insisted. "He needs to know me, the club, and what we're about; that's who you are, baby. You're family comes first."

"I know," I sighed. "Can you blame me for wanting to know what it'd be like with someone who knew nothing about the club, though?"

"It's an unrealistic fantasy, baby. Those kinds of people are only good for one night stands, and you're no whore. You can't build a life with them."

"Uhg," I scowled, the subject completely forgotten as we pulled up to Jax's house. "I knew Wendy was a shitty housewife, but you think she'd no how to pick shit up."

"What a shithole," my mom frowned. "Dumb bitch."

I smirked at my mom and walked beside her up the driveway. She kicked at a stack of newspapers on the front steps before knocking and ringing the door bell. "Wendy," she called. "It's Gemma."

We waited a few moments, but there was no answer. "That's weird," I mused. "Her car's here."

I mom sighed before walking around to the carport and around back. "Follow me," she waved. Unhooking the latch to the gate on the blue fence, we walked around the corner until we reached the window looking into the kitchen.

I head my mom nearly hiss and looked in to see Jax's pregnant ex-wife passed out cold on the floor, blood pooling from between her legs mixing along with a melted carton of ice cream… next to a needle and syringe.

"Stupid junkie bitch," my mom spat as I stared at Wendy through the window.

"Holy shit," I whispered as she pulled out her cell phone, calling for an ambulance.

* * *

_Thoughts? :)_


End file.
